To Dry a Wet Blanket
by sylverskyz
Summary: Fixing a showerhead was never so aggrivating or amusing. Pilots and exTurks make excellent plumbers, apparently.


Yes, I bring you another one-shot. Just to clear it up, there is no real pairing here. Simply Cid and Vincent as friends. However, if you use your imagination, my fellow Cid/Vin fans will be happy. I hope. XD

I absolutely love these guys as friends, it's less angsty than the actual pairing can be. I hope you guys like it! I had fun writing it, although I know it's not my best. Reviews would be loved.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.

* * *

The name Cid Highwind was pretty well known across the land, along with a handful of others. He was one of the Planet's saviours, a master mechanic and pilot, and the owner of the most magnificent airship known to man. A little more intimately, he was known throughout his town as the chain-smoking, gruff fellow with several eyesores in his backyard (which he claimed to be masterpieces of air travel, damnit!), and a mouth that forced mothers to cover their children's ears. Even more closely, he was a good man and heart and a fierce fighter. Yes, Cid's name was one to be known well after his time.

Then why, he had to wonder, were the most simple, almost menial tasks such a damned challenge for him? There was no question that Cid had met his match this afternoon. The sound of a loud clatter and string of curses may be mere background noise in his home, but today it was a sign of borderline defeat.

Standing in the shower, wearing a white undershirt and tattered old jeans, the pilot hissed a harsh word at the showerhead one more time while glaring at it. He seemed oblivious to the fact how stupid he may look glaring at an inanimate object. Glaring up at one, in fact. Once satisfied that he had 'intimidated' the stubborn object enough with his eyes, he looked down and used his bare foot to slide the fallen wrench back over to him across the slick white tile before stooping down to pick it up. Stupid tool. Stupid shower. Stupid everything.

How the thing had stopped working, Cid had no clue. Except the water pressure had been decreasing for the past few months, and finally Shera had dragged the mechanic away from his precious Bronco and made him fix the shower. Why would it matter whether it was low pressure or not? She took forever in the shower anyway; it's not like it hampered or boosted her ability to drain the eastern sea while just washing her damned hair. She also said that it would be 'rude to their guest' if they neglected to fix the shower. First off, Cid very much doubted Vincent was a guest anymore, since his friend had been living with them for quite a while, now. Secondly, there was little to say that the gunman actually cared about things like a crappy showerhead. Well, the sooner he fixed this, the sooner Shera would stop bitching.

Continuing to work at the unyielding piece of junk with equal persistence, Cid was determined to show this shower who was boss. However, after a while, the feeling of eyes watching him made the pilot wary. He did take an instinctive glance around the inside of the shower, but decided that he was both paranoid after all that time chasing after Sephiroth, and losing his mind out of frustration towards his task. Maybe he needed a smoke. The pilot tried his best to ignore it, but after several minutes of struggling to loosen the showerhead with this lingering feeling, he finally gritted his teeth and lowered his arms. Wrench still in hand, the irked blonde grabbed the half-drawn shower curtain and pulled it all the way open to find himself glaring at Vincent. The ex-Turk was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom and watching him with both interest and a smirk on his face.

"What?" Cid did not mean to snap like he had, but his frustration was evident. Vincent seemed unfazed by it as he tilted his head a little wordlessly. Vincent may have lightened up a fair bit since the incident of the three Sephiroth spirits that caused so much trouble, and may have even changed out of that weird cloak and weirder clothing, but he was still the sneakiest son of a bitch Cid had ever met. He rarely meant to (or so he claimed), but the gunman constantly gave Shera a fright by just entering a room soundlessly and uttering nothing until she turned around and yelped upon spotting him. Even the pilot got a little creeped out now and then with Vincent's ghost-like behaviour. The dark-haired man was staring back at Cid right now in a manner that only shortened his already lit fuse.

"Want some help?" he finally asked, his usual monotone voice holding an amused tint to it. Apparently he had heard the commotion that was being made. The dark man had certainly changed a significant amount, as he seemed more like a regular person every day. Standing there, clad in black pants and a blue t-shirt, Vincent Valentine looked little like the man everyone first believed to be a vampire. He was bolder as well, and took to dealing back all the friendly abuse Cid could offer. Still, he was the same man everyone knew. His change was still happening and was painfully gradual. Today, it seemed, he was in one of his better moods.

The pilot, feeling quite to opposite, growled something incoherent before turning around and going back to work. Apparently that was a no. However, since he still felt those eyes on his back after a good minute, the mechanic knew that Vincent was still there. Too impatient to shoo him away, Cid sighed.

"Get your ass over here, then." He said while glancing over his shoulder. As silent as ever, Vincent was at Cid's side before the pilot finished his sentence. Paying no mind to it, Cid brought his arms down again before pointing at the faulty showerhead with the wrench. "I can't get the damn thing loose. Check if it's rusted." He said, unwillingly noting that Vincent was taller than he was. Vincent peered at the faucet for a moment before reaching up with his gauntleted hand and scratching right where Cid had been struggling with the wrench. He brought the claws down and looked at the tips of the index 'finger'. Indeed, there was a fair bit of rust that he had scraped off.

"When was the last time you bought a new showerhead, chief?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as he look at Cid. The other man shrugged.

"Hell if I know. When did you last get a haircut?" Cid said with a smirk, Vincent's half-scowl proving him victorious.

"Point taken." The ex-Turk muttered. Neither men would ever admit it, but they both had a fair bit of lightening up to do. Sure, they had a fair amount of fun, including small, childish pranks on each other (and collaborative efforts to pull a trick on Shera), reminiscing on their travels and sometimes working on the ships together, but it was obvious that both of them let pessimism and tempers put a damper on their moods now and then. Shera often claimed that the amount of testosterone in the house could suffocate a person, to which Cid often retorted by pointing out Vincent's effeminate appearance. That rarely went over well.

Vincent's following silence held a bit of tension, which Cid noticed. He lightly elbowed his friend in the ribs. "I'm just kiddin', Vince." As much as he liked to act like he never gave a damn, Cid disliked seeing his good friend upset. Vincent could brood and mope like nobody else, and not only did it get on Cid's nerves, it concerned him some days. The taller man grunted upon getting jabbed and covered his side with his arm. He then glanced at Cid before allowing himself to smile. Only a little bit, however.

"It's hard to stay mad at a short person." Vincent then said, seemingly an expert at good timing. The pilot's guard had been down, and it showed through his glare and typical response.

"Asshole."

What came next was a collaborative effort, as the two men worked together to loosen the wretched showerhead despite all the rust holding it firmly in place. It must have been quite a scene, both of them grasping at the wrench handle and leaning all of their weight to one side. Finally yielding to their collected might, the showerhead finally came loose and they were able to bring it down and clean it out.

"Fuck... this is disgusting." Cid wrinkled his nose as he leaned over the sink, trying to unclog years of unidentifiable black scum. Vincent simply watched, leaning against the tile wall of the inside of the shower. Again, we wore and amused expression.

"You walk in covered from head to toe in grease and oil every evening." He pointed out while Cid complained. The pilot huffed, wishing he could light up a cigarette right about now. Unfortunately for him, Shera had forced him to cut back on smoking indoors. Who would have thought the woman would grow a spine? It's not like they were married or anything. Cid promptly winced at the thought of it, but it could have been mistaken for him continuing to be sickened because of the grime.

"Oil ain't mysterious and gross like this, Vince." He pointed out, peering into the mass of gunk. "It also ain't... possibly alive."

Vincent simply shook his head. Cid could be dramatic when he wanted to. The gunman watched as his friend managed to clean out the showerhead fully. It took a while, as Cid took care to make sure he would not have to wrestle with this again for a very, very long time. They then managed to put it all back together, obviously with less effort than it took to take it apart. Making sure it was on tight, Cid sighed in a manner that said he was quite happy with his work. Vincent stood outside the shower, but was watching the other man work.

"I suppose we should test it?" Vincent's tone was... unusual. It was sly, and concerning when coming from him. Cid cocked an eyebrow and looked to him, but before he could say anything, a blast of water hit him in the side of the face. Sputtering curses, the pilot stumbled back. By the time he got out of the shower's stream, he was soaked from head to toe. He glared at Vincent, who had his hand on the shower knob. Not only had he turned the water on, he had made sure it was horrifically cold. Several colourful words (in even more colourful patterns) were spouted at the culprit, but he simply laughed. _Vincent laughed_. It started as a chuckle, but it soon rose into a near-fit of something that would have been giggles if he had any less control.

Cid simply stood there, dumbfounded. Sure, it was not like he had never heard his friend show amusement, but not like this. Dark, brooding Vincent Valentine was doubled over while simply cracking up, struggling to breathe. Through being stunned, Cid was still annoyed enough to exact revenge. He reached forward and grabbed his friend (who was unfairly handicapped by crippling amusement) by the front of the shirt and yanked him into the shower. Both the stumble as he tripped over the ledge and the yelp that broke the laughing at Cid's expense proved to be very satisfying. The pilot stepped out and shook his head, much like a dog, and moved out of the way for Vincent to escape the freezing water. Now it was Cid's turn to laugh when he looked back. The gunman looked much like a drowned rat, long bangs over his eyes, and the rest of his hair and clothes hanging down and dripping pathetically. Slowly, he used his claws to move his hair from his face.

Needless to say, the drowned rat was not a happy looking one, but that only added to the humour. They watched each other for a moment. The two were both soaked and dripping, not to mention extremely cold, but could not decide whether to kill each other, or collapse into childish giggles when seeing the other man drenched and rather unhappy about it.

* * *

Tuning out sound was something Shera had perfected ever since she began to let Cid live with her. His curses, the continuous tinkering on the little plane outside, and the usual chaotic sounds that followed him were nothing to her now. But after warning Vincent to not go upstairs and help Cid with the shower, the sound of stomping, running water, and shouts had her a little worried. However, along with the practised ability to ignore, she had grown wise. She knew better than to go upstairs and see what the commotion was about. The mild-mannered woman simply pulled the teabag out of her teacup and poured in a little bit of cream while stirring her drink. She was humming a tune to herself while she did, but soon stopped and looked up as she heard what sounded like a herd of chocobos come stampeding down the wooden stairs.

Then, all she saw was the blur of Cid go running by at a speed she otherwise thought was impossible for him. He was out the kitchen door and in the backyard before she knew it. What shocked her more was the fact that he was laughing. Then, the form of Vincent whipped by, out the door after Cid just as quickly. The woman blinked slowly, and looked out the screen door to see Cid trying to fend off Vincent with the garden hose. She still struggled to grasp the fact that both men were in fits of laughter. So hard, in fact, that both could barely stand. She then looked to where they came from, and saw a trail of water lead down the stairs, across the kitchen, and out the said door. It was a miracle neither of them had slipped and fallen.

Looking back out and watching Vincent literally tackle Cid onto the grass, Shera rested an elbow on the table, then the side of her face into her hand. She sighed and simply watched, figuring she would wait until they stopped wrestling and came inside before she cleaned up. She would also have time to be mad at them later. Right now just seeing them not brooding or cursing up a storm was worth the trouble of the mess and wondering what the neighbours would think.


End file.
